


Unintentional Secrets

by KahtyaSofia



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, Non Consensual, One Shot, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-25
Updated: 2009-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/KahtyaSofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to a prompt form tw-exchange: <i>That scene in Fragments, where the Psycho!Victorian Torchwood lady shoved the hankie down Jack's throat to subdue him...maybe of all the ways he's died since, that gets him the most because it was done with deliberate, sadistic malice (she got have knocked him out or shot him). A similar close call leads to subsequent freak out, and Ianto coaxing details out of Jack and providing comfort. Basically, Ianto realising that someone Jack's age is always going to have unintentional secrets and lots of potential for 'freak out' moments.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Unintentional Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Set somewhere in S2. Thank you to the lovely last minute beta's. The events in 'Fragments' are dark ones and this prompt really asked for that darkness to be explored. I hope I did it justice without freaking anyone out! Beta'd by faithharkness and betterlate_24

There were five of them, and Jack had made each one really angry in turn. He'd been buying time until his team could locate him and he had fully expected to be beaten and tortured. It had all gone wrong when one of his captors went too far and killed him accidentally.

Jack knew he was in the back bedroom of an abandoned house somewhere on the outskirts of Cardiff. He knew his team had a reading on him when he'd been snatched and Tosh and Ianto's brilliance would allow them to have no trouble tracking him to his current location, since he was still on planet. Jack just had to buy them time. Now, since his captors knew his secret, instead of spending their time on guard duty beating him, all five were concentrating on killing him.

Jack's first death at their hands, the accidental one, was the result of some overzealous knife-work. To Jack's experienced eye, his killer seemed to be the youngest, and therefore, the least experienced. He'd cut too deeply too soon. Jack had awakened to all five mercenaries standing over him arguing, nearly coming to blows. First, they'd stared at him in disbelief when he'd gasped back to life. Next, they'd rejoiced at the idea of how far they could go with their new toy when there was no risk of a permanent death.

In a short span of time, he'd been repeatedly shot with laser weapons, stabbed with an assortment of wicked blades, and beaten very brutally. He revived for the fourth time to the sight of his blood everywhere. His clothes were saturated and stiffening as they dried. The carpet beneath him was nearly black with his blood and the walls were streaked with cast-off patterns from the swing of a knife.

Jack pushed away the memories of a deranged Time Lord. He couldn't get caught up in those thoughts, not when he needed to keep his captors occupied long enough that he wasn't moved before Torchwood could find him. Jack didn't have time to focus on battling back his memories. The current guard was on him immediately, a blitz attack he had no hope of fending off.

He found himself face down in the drying puddle of his own blood, held firmly by a knee to his back. Jack's arms were roughly yanked up and back, putting a strain on his shoulders.

"Are you harder to kill? Do you die slower?" his captor growled into Jack's ear, fetid breath grazing his cheek unpleasantly.

Jack had a witty retort all ready when his arms where jerked up and back so sharply that his torso was raised off the floor. He couldn't breathe, let alone talk. His guard's knees coming to rest in the centre of his back compounded the stress on his lungs. The rational part of Jack's brain identified the method as compression suffocation. The emotional part of his brain suddenly overrode all else and the only thing he saw was the face of Emily Holroyd.

In an instant, Jack was no longer in the dingy room in an abandoned house in 2008. He was thrown backward into a filthy back street of Cardiff in 1899. The look in the blond woman's eyes made Jack wonder if there were worse things than death. She was a true predator, dangerous and smart. The dark-haired one just looked cruel.

He was surprised by the strength of a woman on nineteenth-century Earth. They weren't supposed to be able to easily subdue men at this point in their evolution; but the dark haired one, whom he would later come to know as Alice Guppy, knocked him on his arse with two well-aimed punches. A hundred years later, there were going to be some kick-ass chicks, but not now, in the time of corsets and bustles. Needless to say, Jack was shocked to find himself flat on his back.

The blond woman, who turned out to be Emily, was on him in the blink of an eye, pinning Jack to the ground with the full weight of her body pressed across his shoulders. She prevented him from getting any leverage and completely nullified his greater size, weight, and strength.

The bitch didn't speak. She didn't say a word as she pinned Jack helplessly to the ground and shoved a poisoned handkerchief down his throat. Jack had been around the Universe and the Time Vortex enough to recognize a symbolic rape when he was the victim of one. If this predatory monster of a woman had had a cock, she'd have dragged it out and shoved it down his throat until she smothered him. The toxic cloth wasn't much better, as the intent was identically the same.

When he'd awoken in the bowels of the Torchwood Hub, Alice had shoved papers at him that bore the proof that they knew he wouldn't die. When they had cornered and captured Jack, they had known they could club him from behind, shoot him, or drug his drink and secure him before he revived. Instead, they'd taken great pleasure in the cruel infliction of pain and humiliation.

Jack had never forgiven them. One hundred and nine years later, he still hated them.

To this point, Jack had borne the murder of his body at the hands of his five captors with stoicism necessary to keep them occupied until his team reached him. As the face of Emily Holroyd flooded Jack's memory, blinding him to his surroundings, he began to struggle. It was futile and some part of him knew it, but he desperately needed to get away from the crushing weight on his lungs and the sharp pain in his shoulders. In his mind's eye, a male mercenary was not restraining Jack; he was being restrained by Emily again.

He nearly toppled his assailant with a fresh strength born of panic and desperation, but it wasn't enough to free him completely. Jack felt muscles pull and other soft structures tear as he battled his memories. He was unaware of reality even as Ianto crashed through the door of the bedroom, gun drawn. Jack didn't hear the loud report of Ianto's weapon firing several times. He knew only that his captor was no longer pinning him and smothering him. Jack was still in 1899 when he began to claw at and scramble along the soiled carpet. He crawled, heedless of the gore on and around him. His movements further fouled his skin and his clothing and he knew nothing of it. Jack sucked in each breath, ragged with panic. He crawled across the room until his back was against the far wall and there he sat, staring into space, seeing only Emily's face.

Jack was unaware of Ianto checking the body of his now-dead captor. He was unaware of Ianto activating his comm and notifying the other members of Torchwood that Jack was located and the room was secure. He was unaware for several long minutes Ianto spent crouching in front of him, watching him closely, calling his name. Ianto was careful not to touch him. He simply stayed in Jack's view and spoke to him softly, repeating his name over and over again.

Coming back to himself finally, Jack focused on Ianto. He struggled to get his breathing and trembling under control. Ianto didn't need to see him like this. Jack didn't need to be seen, curled up with his knees to his chest, back pressed to the wall, shaking like a leaf. His vulnerability didn't engender confidence in his abilities as a leader. His fear and terror didn't inspire loyalty. He had to get himself under control before the rest of the team wandered in; it was bad enough that Ianto was seeing him like this.

"Sit-rep," Jack said in a voice that was ragged even to his own ears.

Ianto finally reached out a hand to gently grasp his bicep, "House is secured, Jack," the hand on his arm ran softly up to his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jack snapped, belying his words. His terror had him on edge and his shame at his weakness made him belligerent. Before he could ask after the other four mercenaries, Ianto's eyes took on that unfocused expression they all got when listening to comm chatter.

Ianto activated his comm device and spoke, "I have Jack; he's fine and his guard is dead. Gwen, contact UNIT and advise them that this clean up is beyond Torchwood's resources and they'll have to handle it. Tosh, scan the house for any technology and secure it before we leave. Owen, retrieve the SUV and bring it around front. Jack's been through a lot and would prefer not having to walk any more than he has to."

It occurred to Jack, as he listened to Ianto command the team, that since Ianto was with Jack, who didn't have a comm unit, the team would assume all of these orders were actually Jack's and were just being relayed by Ianto. He was more grateful than he thought he could be when the team didn't question, but simply did as they were told.

"Are you okay, Jack?" Ianto asked again, concern evident in every part of his face.

"I told you, I'm fine," he at least tried not to take Ianto's head off this time.

"Are you good to head for the SUV or do you need a few more minutes?" Ianto pressed.

Jack began to try to force himself to stand. It took several false starts and a lot of help from Ianto, but he finally gained his footing. He stood staring just past Ianto's shoulder, trying to steady his breathing and hide his trembling hands. "I'm good," he said through gritted teeth. "Let's go."

He pushed off from the wall, but his legs were still unsteady. To Jack's chagrin, Ianto thrust a shoulder beneath his arm and he immediately felt more stable. Ianto stepped toward the door of the room and Jack could only follow. Ianto gave no indication that anything seemed out of sorts and Jack was grateful.

"My coat," he suddenly felt naked without his greatcoat. "They tore it off of me and tossed it somewhere."

Jack felt himself propped against another wall as he watched Ianto retrieve his coat from the far corner of the room. It was blessedly free of the gore that was otherwise splashed across the room. Jack pushed himself up as Ianto approached with the coat extended, and this time his legs held. Ianto slid the coat up Jack's arms and settled it on his shoulders and he felt inexplicably stronger, more himself.

Ianto spoke not a word as he took Jack's arms and led him toward the door. He made it out under his own steam, but it was a close thing. When they encountered Tosh and Gwen in the front room of the house, both women made as if to hug Jack. His anxiety returned full force, as he feared they would feel his fear and his weakness if they touched him. At the very least they would become aware of the blood that had soaked through his clothing, even though his coat now mostly covered it. Jack must have somehow communicated his hesitance to Ianto without being aware he was doing it.

"You two head for the SUV," Ianto said in an amicable tone that still brooked no resistance. "Jack says we're leaving right away."

"But UNIT isn't here," Gwen protested, looking at Jack, her expression showing concern.

"This is an abandoned neighbourhood," Ianto pointed out. "Jack says no one will disturb the scene before UNIT can come clean it up."

Gwen and Tosh both looked from Ianto to Jack and back again. As Jack was right there with them and not contradicting Ianto's statements, they seemed satisfied that Ianto really was relaying Jack's orders. Jack felt relief that they chose not to question Ianto.

As they approached the SUV, Owen slid out of the driver's seat and started to hand Jack the keys. Jack held up a hand to forestall Owen and simply walked around to the front passenger seat. He knew he was in no condition to drive. He couldn't concentrate and he couldn't stop his hands from shaking. Ianto slid into the back seat behind Jack. Owen paused, obviously confused, but as the women climbed in beside Ianto without a word, Owen resumed his place in the driver's seat and restarted the engine.

Jack was silent during the drive to the Hub, with Ianto doing all of Jack's talking for him. The team shot them both the occasional confused look, but as Jack was fully aware of Ianto's every word and didn't contradict or interrupt once, they went along without question.

Back at the Hub, the team went about their business, with Gwen and Tosh dealing with UNIT to ensure the scene back at the house was cleaned up. The mercenaries had no tech worth salvaging, so they left the entire operation to UNIT. Ianto got Jack cleaned up and out of his torn and soiled clothes and into clean ones. He was shocked to see the blood in his hair and on his face. It was his own blood, Jack knew, and it explained the concerned looks the team had been giving him since he'd been rescued.

Ianto made Jack coffee, got some food into him, and generally hovered for the remainder of the day. Jack made a lot of noise about needing Ianto close at hand for official reasons, even though it was just a façade. Ianto knew it; Jack knew he knew it but neither of them spoke of it. Phone calls were placed, others answered and forms were completed at Ianto's instruction. It all ran smoothly because Jack was on autopilot, or should he say 'Ianto-pilot'? He didn't have to think about anything too deeply and Ianto was there to cover for his still shaking hands.

Although Ianto never left his side except for very brief moments, he also never asked difficult or awkward questions that Jack wasn't ready to answer. He would have to find a way to express his appreciation to Ianto for that when he was feeling more himself.

Ianto checked Jack's computer to make sure everyone had electronically submitted their reports on the earlier incident then sent them all home. Again, standing in the door to Jack's office, the instruction had the appearance of coming directly from Jack. Unfortunately, Jack wouldn't have thought to send the team home; he would have just continued to avoid them.

As the cog door rolled shut behind the team's departure, Jack allowed himself to relax finally into his chair with a heavy sigh. The reaction he had staved off with Ianto's help and his own sheer force of will rolled over him now. He rubbed his hands over his face and struggled to breathe deeply. The shaking and trembling returned threefold and Jack struggled for control.

He felt firm hands come to rest comfortingly on his shoulders. Ianto's hands squeezed gently then moved to rub soothingly down his back. Jack concentrated on regulating his breathing. After several long moments, the silence broken only by Jack's ragged breathing, he felt himself begin to relax.

Finally, he found the strength to speak, "I'm fine, Ianto."

The withdrawal of Ianto's warmth left Jack feeling strangely bereft but he couldn't let himself continue to lean too heavily on him.

"Indeed," Ianto replied enigmatically, "And you always will be. Eventually."

"What do you mean by 'eventually'?" Jack found himself curious at Ianto's choice of words.

"Certain incidents are bound to stir up unpleasant memories." Ianto said, with understanding.

"Yes," Jack said non-commitally, surprised at Ianto's perception.

"Your time away from us was certainly filled with unpleasant memories," Ianto was now perched on Jack's desk. "It's inevitable one or two of them would surface unexpectedly."

"I'd rather not think about it anymore." Jack said in a strained voice, "Can we talk about something else?"

"We can, but it does no good to hide from your past."

Jack was silent for several long moments, so Ianto spoke again, "Is there anything I can do?"

Jack felt himself falling back on his smile, as well as his gift for misdirection, "You can distract me from the stresses of my job."

The corner of Ianto's mouth lifted in a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Jack could tell that Ianto was aware of the attempted manipulation. The question was whether he would go along with it.

"Did you have a particular distraction in mind?" Ianto asked teasingly and Jack knew he was off the hook, at least for the night, "Or shall I improvise?"

Jack stood from his chair, clasped Ianto's face between his hands, and kissed him. It was a kiss partly of thanks, partly of desperation and tinged with their usual lust. Ianto wrapped his arms around Jack's waist and gripped the back of his shirts. He met Jack's kiss measure for measure and Jack began to forget.

They were stumbling slowly toward the hatch in the floor. Ianto's tie was tossed aside. Jack's braces dangled at his thighs. Ianto's shirt was hanging nearly unbuttoned, as was Jack's. By the time they tumbled to the mattress in Jack's bunker, they were shedding the last of their clothes.

Ianto slid Jack's hips to the edge of the mattress and knelt between his legs. He stripped the last of Jack's clothing from him so that they were both naked and breathing hard. Ianto ran his hands up the length of Jack's thighs. He lowered his head to ghost his warm breath along Jack's hard and straining cock. Jack groaned aloud and threaded his fingers through Ianto's hair. The hint was taken and Ianto slid his hot mouth down Jack's length until he could go no further.

Jack lifted his hips from the bed involuntarily, straining not to choke Ianto. There was no better distraction for Jack than Ianto. His hands, his mouth, his tight arse; Jack needed and wanted it all. Ianto sucked him hard; he sucked him deep and fast and Jack quickly forgot what had him so upset earlier. Ianto was all he could see, hear, feel, and smell.

Ianto pulled himself off of Jack's erection with a loud pop, "Do you want to come like this?" he asked in a gravelly tone before he took Jack back in for another long, hard suck.

"No," Jack hissed, "I want to be inside of you."

Ianto didn't hesitate. He slid back off of Jack once again and eased himself up from the floor. With gentle hands he pressed Jack back against the mattress and slid up to straddle his hips. The pressure from above and the angle at which he was viewing Ianto undid all the good work the blowjob had done. Jack felt his breath quicken and catch. His heart began to race again and his brain felt ready to explode. He couldn't have Ianto above him, not tonight. Hoping to cover his discomfort, Jack sat up quickly and overbalanced Ianto. He ended up on top, between Ianto's spread thighs. Jack smiled wickedly down at Ianto, hoping it appeared as though he just wanted to be on top tonight, and not that he was getting the present confused with his past and Emily.

Jack pulled back and gave Ianto's hip a sharp smack; "Roll over," he said, his own voice sex-roughened.

Ianto lifted one lean leg and quick as you please, flipped himself over to lay face down. Jack reached for lube and set it aside for now. He ran his hands slowly up Ianto's arms to clasp his wrists, "Grab the edge of the mattress and don't let go until I say," Jack growled in Ianto's ear, knowing full well he was taking control now to offset the feelings of helplessness he kept reliving.

When Ianto had tightly fisted the edge of the mattress, Jack took up the lube again. He drizzled an ample amount in the cleft of Ianto's arse. He coated his fingers in the stuff and inserted them smoothly inside of Ianto's body. Lastly, Jack slicked up his own hard cock and pressed the tip of the head to Ianto's tight opening. With one harsh thrust, Jack slid home.

He liked the sound of Ianto's sharp cry at the breach. Jack pressed himself inward until his hips slammed against Ianto's arse cheeks. His own grunt of effort and desire was lost in the louder shouts from Ianto. He pressed Ianto hard into the mattress with one hand between his shoulder blades and tightly gripped the firm flesh of an arse cheek with the other.

Jack used his hands, his weight, and his cock to shove Ianto hard into the mattress. He fucked the warm body beneath him as hard and as fast as he was able. Jack levered himself as far above Ianto's prone body as he could. He wasn't even thinking of Ianto as a person any longer; it was just a warm body for him to dominate. Sweat ran down his face and rolled down the planes of his back. He held Ianto as immobile as he possibly could and fucked down into him. Jack needed to get on top of Ianto. He desperately needed to be on top and to fuck down into the mattress. He needed to feel powerful, in control and above the body beneath him.

He struggled against the memory of Emily's face as she straddled Jack, forcing the cloth into his throat. He shoved harder at Ianto and fucked him faster and more violently, working to exorcise the sight of Emily's evil expression. If Jack could just stay on top of this body, if he could just keep this body beneath him from rolling over and gaining control, he could stop the nightmares.

It was no longer Ianto being pounded into the mattress; it was Emily Holroyd. Jack would stop her. He could and he would end her hold over him. He was going to stop her influence over his life and his deaths. Tonight.

"Jack!" a desperate voice made its way to his ears, "Jack, you have to stop!"

The desperation spurred Jack on. That voice was under his control; he was forcing those cries from the body beneath him. He felt a hand grasping hard at his hip and his thigh, first grabbing then pushing against him as if to stop the thrusts of his hips.

"Jack, you need to stop," the voice was shouting at him. "What is wrong with you? Jack! Stop. Now."

He heard the voice and Jack knew he should focus on those words but all he could see was Emily's face and he still needed to fuck her out of his soul.

"Jack," the voice beneath him was angry now, "Jack, 'n ddihangol eiria."

That last phrase was important. Some part of Jack's brain latched on to that phrase. He didn't know what it meant, he only knew that the fact that it had been spoken was significant and he had to hang on to that phrase.

"Gwrando ar 'm," Ianto's voice was enraged now, "Jack, 'n ddihangol eiria."

That last phrase, spoken again, jolted Jack back into reality. He became suddenly aware of how forcefully he had Ianto pinned to the bed beneath him. Abruptly, he stopped the thrusts of his hips and released Ianto completely. He pulled himself quickly out of Ianto's body and scrambled across the bed on onto the floor.

Ianto had spoken his safe word.

Ianto had to say his safe word and Jack hadn't heard him. He'd been so far gone he hadn't heard Ianto and he'd had to speak his safe word twice. This was not good. This was not good at all. Jack was horrified at himself. He was ashamed at what he'd done and how he'd treated Ianto.

He'd become what he despised.

"Oh God, Ianto," Jack said from where he had fallen to the floor, "I'm so sorry."

Ianto sat up and pressed himself against the wall in the opposite direction from Jack. "What the hell got into you, Jack?" he asked angrily.

Jack didn't blame him at all. "Bad memory," he bit out between clenched teeth, "I shouldn't have let my attention wander."

"Your attention wander?" Ianto asked incredulously, "That was one hell of a bad memory."

Jack eased forward toward the bed trying to be conciliatory, "You shouldn't have had to say your safe word."

"No, I shouldn't have." Ianto agreed and Jack felt like he'd been punched in the gut, "My first two requests for you to ease up should have been heeded."

"Yes, you're right." Jack had no choice but to agree. Ianto was right. Jack was filled with self-loathing.

"Why didn't you hear me, Jack?" Ianto asked in a whisper. He was still pressed against the far wall.

Jack despaired of ever earning back Ianto's trust. He slowly came to sit on the bed again, but he kept well back from Ianto.

"I got lost in a memory," he explained, although it felt inadequate. "I couldn't hear you, but that's no excuse."

Jack watched Ianto visibly relax a little. "That's a hell of a memory," he said again.

"Yeah," was all Jack could think to say, daring to hope he hadn't destroyed Ianto's trust in him permanently.

"Are you okay, now?" Ianto asked.

With the focus back on himself, Jack realized he was shaking. Badly.

"Not really," he confessed, "I can't believe I did that to you."

"Did you mean to?" Ianto asked, "Were you ignoring me?"

"No!" Jack reached out an unsteady hand toward Ianto, "No, Ianto, no."

"Then it's okay." Ianto said gently and slid back down onto the bed. He lay on his back but watched Jack warily.

"No, Ianto," Jack argued, "It's really not." He couldn't believe Ianto was making it this easy for him. He didn't deserve it.

Ianto patted the bed beside himself, "Try to calm down and relax."

Jack grasped desperately at the olive branch and lay down facing Ianto. He left a lot of space between their bodies.

"Is the memory gone or do you still need to run from it?" Ianto asked softly.

Jack blinked several times at Ianto's intuitive understanding. "It's still with me but I think I've pushed it back into the shadows."

"I think it would be better if we could exorcise the demon, so to speak." Ianto ran a hand through Jack's hair as he spoke.

"What do you mean?"

In answer, Ianto rolled over and pressed his back to Jack's chest. He wriggled his arse against Jack's now flaccid cock and lifted his top leg, opening himself up once again, without question.

"Ianto…" Jack began.

"Are you back with me, now?" Ianto asked gently.

"Yes," Jack breathed against the skin of Ianto's neck.

"Are you going to drift off again?"

"No," Jack assured him, "I'm here with you for the night."

"You needed this before; you probably need it even more now." Ianto explained sagely.

Jack was always a slave to his baser instincts and he was already kissing at Ianto's skin, running his hands over his back and chest and hips. His cock was rising again.

"You would be well within your rights to get up and leave me here alone."

"Let's just move past this," Ianto said.

Jack felt himself growing longer and thicker and soon, after a deep, searing kiss from Ianto, he was ready again. This time, when he slid himself into Ianto, he went slowly. He was as gentle and as careful as he had ever been in his life.

Ianto turned at the waist so they could kiss as Jack pressed himself in and out. It was slow and languid and a vast departure from their earlier coupling. This time, Jack chased away the memories of Emily's face with the real image of Ianto's in the here and now. He found he didn't need control; he didn't need to be in power or on top. Jack found he just needed Ianto's kindness for a few moments.

He came at the same time Ianto did. He spilled his hot seed inside of Ianto's body, watching while Ianto stroked himself to completion at the same time. They looked into each other's eyes and breathed in each other's breath as they came down from their climaxes.

Ianto lay across the pillows at the top of the bed. Jack lay back against him, pressed to his chest. Ianto had thrown an arm over Jack's shoulder and used it to pull his body closer by wrapping it around his chest.

"Do you feel better now?" Ianto whispered against Jack's ear.

"Yeah," Jack sighed, "I do. Thank you."

Ianto paused a long time and Jack thought he meant not to talk anymore.

"Was it one of the times he tortured you?" Ianto asked at length, "Or one of the other times?"

Ianto didn't verbalize it but the word hung in the air between them anyway. Rape.

Without thinking, Jack corrected Ianto's erroneous belief.

"It wasn't a memory of the Master," he said quickly, "It was of Emily."

"Emily?" Ianto asked, clearly confused, "Emily, who?"

"Holroyd."

"Emily Holroyd?" Ianto was clearly shocked, "Torchwood Three's Emily Holroyd?"

"One and the same," Jack confirmed on a sigh.

"What in the hell," Ianto asked slowly, incredulously, "could Emily have done to you that would have sparked that kind of reaction?"

Jack owed Ianto the story. He owed him more than that, but at the very least he owed him the story.

So, Jack told Ianto about how he'd come to work for Torchwood Cardiff. He told Ianto about Alice knocking him on his arse. Jack told him about Emily sitting on his chest to smother and suffocate and poison him, all at the same time. He told Ianto about how she'd enjoyed it, simply because it hadn't been necessary. It was cruel, and that had been enough.

"Why didn't you ever tell me this before?" Ianto asked and Jack thought he detected anger or resentment.

"I never thought of it," he answered honestly, "it never came up."

"How you came to be a part of Torchwood? How Emily trapped and tortured you? How is it that never came up?"

"I don't know, Ianto," Jack was confused by Ianto's apparent anger, his sense of betrayal, "It's not like I was deliberately keeping it from you."

"That's not what I'm saying, Jack," Ianto's hand rubbed soothingly at his chest, "I'm honestly baffled that it was never a topic of conversation before now."

"I have a lot of history, Ianto," Jack pointed out the obvious, "a lot of stories to tell. I may never get around to all of them."

"You have a point," Ianto capitulated.

"I have memories that I won't think on for decades," Jack explained, "and then something will happen to jar the memory loose and there it is."

"I'm sorry you had to relive this particular one," Ianto said forgivingly.

"So am I," Jack sighed, "it doesn't overtake me often but when it does, well…" he trailed off.

"Yes, I witnessed that first hand."

"I'm so sorry about that."

"I know, I know you are."

They lay silently for several long moments before Jack spoke again, "Something like this might happen again."

"That thought occurred to me," Ianto confessed, "so I guess I'll be on the lookout for the signs."

"This isn't a burden you should have to share."

"Are you keeping secrets like this intentionally?"

"No. I'm keeping nothing from you intentionally anymore."

"Then it's not a burden. It's just a part of having you around."

"Very prosaic."

"Thank you."

They were silent again for a long while.

"So," Ianto started, "that mercenary from today, his sitting on top of you, smothering you. That caused your flashback?"

"It would seem. That's when the memories came flooding back."

"I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

"Carry your own burdens, Ianto, don't carry mine. You got there as soon as you could. You got there, that's what's important. The rest is the responsibility of Emily and the man you killed. It's not for you to own."

"One request: the next time something is haunting you and we've yet to discuss it, please tell me the story right away."

"Agreed."

(OK to convert and Kindle as long as header remains intact. Please comment if you do.)


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